


Visible

by mammal



Category: Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, pretentious brackets usage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 05:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7922521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammal/pseuds/mammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He killed the car... he deserved what he got.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visible

**Author's Note:**

> There's not a happy ending here, folks, even if I figure out how to continue this.

It wasn't the pain that bothered him. He killed the car... he deserved what he got. Really, when you thought about it, Morris went kind of easy on him. After all, the car was essentially the favored son, and Cameron a distant second – in fact, he had effectively committed fratricide. [He huffed a laugh, then winced as his ribs protested sharply.] 

No, the pain wasn't the problem at all; as much as he complained about every little illness, it wasn't because it hurt (it was to make Ferris laugh). He was used to pain – he could even tape his own goddamn ribs. The problem was the location of the pain, or more specifically, the _visibility_ of the location. Morris had never gone for the face before, so he had never had to show up to school with a fat lip. 

Fat lip, black eye, ear that was noticeably red and swollen. People would look. They would _look_ at him. People would _look,_ and _stare,_ and _wonder,_ and _ask_.... He didn't know if he could handle that. Over the years, he had gotten used to people looking in his general direction – if you're friends with Ferris, if you're around Ferris, people had their eyes turned toward you. But their eyes would always slide right over him and lock onto Ferris (just as it should be), so it didn't make him nervous anymore. Not _very_ nervous, anyway. Hardly ever. Hardly at all, really. [He started to chew his lip, but the taste of blood stopped him before the pain did.]

And when Sloane was with (them) him, then Cameron was practically invisible, which he liked even better. Everyone wanted to look at Sloane and Ferris. Why wouldn't they (he always did)? There was no reason to look away, look over at (the third wheel) the nobody. He had years of practice at being interesting enough in private to keep (a little bit of) Ferris' attention, and still bland enough to be anonymous in public.

But now he wasn't bland any more. He was technicolor, and _hugely_ swollen, and he might as well be wearing a giant badge that said “ASK ME ABOUT MY HOME LIFE!” He dreaded tomorrow morning more than he had ever dreaded school before – and he was one of the world's top ten experts on dread. (heh [ow]) But the worst part? The worst part wasn't what the other students would say. Or the teachers, or even Rooney. 

No, the absolute worst part would be the look on Ferris' face. That whole-face smile crumpling, going slack. Those eyes changing until they looked a mile deep and miserable. The shoulders pulling in, making Ferris look so much smaller. He'd only seen it a couple of times before, and it was when they were younger, but he would never forget. It was always – _always_ – due to Cameron getting hurt. When Ferris himself was hurt, his face would screw up into a grimace. His whole body would tense up, his fists balling, and Cam would know he wasn't faking because he wouldn't say a word. If Ferris was complaining, he was bound to be exaggerating wildly. It was when he was silent that Cam worried (so much).

He didn't want Sloane to see him, either. He hadn't ever seen her truly upset – even by the pool today she had stayed calm – but he had a feeling she would find his current appearance (more repulsive than usual) disturbing. He really, really, _really_ did not want to see Sloane cry (would she cry over him?). He was used to seeing her laughing (with Ferris), and he would do anything to keep it that way. Goddamn fucking Morris. Why couldn't he just keep it to body blows?

How many sick days had he taken this semester, anyway? He clearly wasn't going to sleep tonight, might as well break into Judith's office and spend a couple of hours with her old medical textbooks, trying to figure out how long the black eye would last. Turned out the answer was “too long.” Besides, there was no way Ferris would let him lie low for even a day without finding a way to (check on him) get in his face. [He tried to heave a sigh, and ended up swearing in pain again.]

Okay then, he'd just have to come up with a story. Not a fight... Ferris knew everyone in the whole goddamn town, and would know it was a lie within hours. A mugging? Ferris and Sloane (would worry) would want him to go to the police. Not to mention, where would he have gone to get mugged between last night and this morning? Okay, okay, okay, okay. Okay. He fell down the stairs! Except there aren't any stairs in his fucking boring ultra-modern house. Shit!

Okay. He fell... down... the ravine! He went to go check on the car, and, and, and he fell! He fell ON the car! Yeah, yes, this was good. This could work. He tripped on the way down, he stumbled, he flailed, heeeeeeee... hit his left eye on the car, and then hit his right ear and lip when he hit the ground. Wait. Did that even make sense? No, no, no, no, no, no! [He moved his hands and head around, trying to figure the angles, but only aggravated his ribs.] Maybe he hit his _ear_ on the _car_ first, then hit his lip and left eye on... a rock. Or something. Maybe he should, like, bandage his leg, or, or, or use a crutch. Maybe he could scrape up his arm or knee! 

Should he go down with a flashlight and leave some blood on or near the car? Or would that be too much? [He started again to bite his lip in frustration, but remembered not to just in time.]

Three hours until he had to leave for school – get your shit together, Cam! At least they hadn't grounded him from using his car (he could still pick up Ferris and Sloane), since Morris wasn't speaking to him, and Judith couldn't be assed to drive him anywhere. Morris hadn't done much more than cosmetic damage to it, either, and since it was already a piece of shit, maybe nobody would notice (Ferris notices everything). 

Okay, okay, plan: hide out until the usual time to get up. Shower, retape the ribs. Eat breakfast fast, if he has any appetite. [His stomach lurches at the very thought of food.] They should be gone by then, so he could sneak in and see if Judith had any makeup that might make the eye less... eye-catching. (heh [ow])

Go get Sloane first, try the story on her; depending on how she takes it, fiddle with the details on the way to get Ferris. It'd be easier to tell her first – she won't (care) pry as much as he does. Maybe... maybe wear sunglasses. Even if it's kinda cloudy. Hmm, don't need to encounter the Bueller parents with their touchy-feely style; their usual hugs would _really_ not feel good on the ribs right now. And Jeannie always punched him, which, no. Should he honk? or send Sloane to the door (and have to (get to)) watch them kiss good morning?

Yeah, maybe just honk. (It wasn't the kissing that bothered him. It was the not being kissed.)


End file.
